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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566405">toward the sky, across the ocean</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukinaMika/pseuds/YukinaMika'>YukinaMika</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2021 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:41:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukinaMika/pseuds/YukinaMika</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom &amp; Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie relocates to Gotham.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2021 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>toward the sky, across the ocean</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="https://bunathebunny.tumblr.com/post/625715339872845824/marinette-does-not-survive-the-last-battle-against">an idea I had.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paris holds their breath when Ladybug’s hand closes around the purple brooch. Her smile is a bloody thing but triumph shines in her eyes, locked on the flycam of one Nadja Chamack.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she mouths, guiltless in the fact that she knows that she would choose this, again and again, “See you.”</p><p>And with a grunt, she yanks, tearing the brooch away from Hawk Moth’s grasp. Something akin to a whimper of pain in her throat when she falls backward, the wound at her stomach keeps gushing out blood and the tip of Hawk Moth’s sword is a vibrant red.</p><p>Gabriel Agreste falls to his knees, the sword dissolving as the magic fades but the attention is on Ladybug when her teammates, all limping and wounded and so, so young, converge around her, cradling her prone form.</p><p>In the silence that seems to envelope Paris as a whole, the glamor crumbles and in place of Paris’ resourceful protector lies a familiar girl.</p><p>Faraway, Tom crumbles to the ground and Sabine follows him, holding him close as their daughter breathes her last.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Gabriel Agreste wants the Ladybug’s earrings and Chat Noir’s ring for a wish. He claims that they could bring back “his” Emilie. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He raves and raves about how this was not meant to happen. That Emilie should be right beside him again. That his family could have been whole again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He never looks at his son nor does he mention the death of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sabine spends ten minutes in the washroom at the court, emptying her stomach with each hiccup as tears stain her make-up. Tom’s frantic voice is but background noises to the realization that her daughter’s death weights nothing in the mind of Gabriel Agreste. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>The rain continues to fall as if the sky is mourning for the loss of a brave soul.</p><p>Paris is in shambles, the death of one of their protector shakes them to the core. Streets silent in the rush hour, nothing but the quiet rumble of engines as cars pass back and forth.</p><p>The landline has been unplugged, the blinds pulled down and the doors locked. Their personal phones vibrate almost non-stop on the nightstand.</p><p>Sabine curls into her husband when he hiccups, tears and snot in his blotchy red face. Her throat is heavy with something invisible when the sound of Marinette’s laughter comes and goes as quickly as her presence and Tom sobs.</p><p>The Marinette on the screen babbles, tiny pigtails bouncing as she rocks back and forth on her heels. Her eyes are all big and wide as she talks about a thousand things at a time.</p><p>It is life itself that shines in their daughter’s eyes and even if it is just a memory, it is still a thousand times better than the empty room that is getting colder and colder without the sun-liked presence of their daughter.</p><p>Paris speaks of Ladybug’s bravery. The people who come knocking on their door come because of Ladybug. Some encourage them, some grieve with them. They tell them to be proud of their Marinette.</p><p>Sabine, as selfish as it is, would rather her daughter to be here, alive and breathing rather than hearing endless praises about her bravery, her sacrifices. She would rather have their daughter running up and down the stairs because she forgets something than the quiet footsteps of silence stalking the very hall as Tom and her grieve for a life lost too soon.</p><p>Frankly, she thinks she would let Paris burn just for her daughter to be back in her arms.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>The bakery closes down every few days when either Tom or Sabine is too tired to get up. The humble home that once smells of freshly baked bread and warmth and comfort is now filled with an empty silence and the thick and lingering smoke from incense.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They grieve, yes and the sadness overwhelms them from time to time. And there are certain moments when all Sabine can feel is nothing as if her heart has been numbed from all of the pain while Tom flops over the bed and staring at the celling listlessly as if there is an invisible veil of fog in front of his eyes.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>A documentary is the very thing that rouses them out of their depression. One sloppily made film about Gotham and her youth, about the children who slipped through the cracks and winded up on the streets because there is no one looking after them, because the darkened alleys are much safer than their homes.</p><p>There is a little girl, black-haired and blue-eyed and she looks so much like their lost daughter.</p><p>“This is abrupt,” Tom blusters forward like a blinded bull, ever the one to let emotions cloud his judgement, “But dear, maybe we should have a change of space.”</p><p>Sabine stares at Tom with confusion that soon turns to fear – abandonment is a searing hot terror in her chest. She turns to the television, documentary still playing yet all seem to be fade into the background. The silence echoes in her ears.</p><p>“Hear me out,” Tom pleads, big, rough palms cup around her, warm and reassuring, “Love, come with me, please…”</p><p>Fright eases into relief before something prickling and cold rises in her chest. Tom wants to… leave. When their child just…</p><p>“You want to <em>leave</em> her behind?” she gasps out through quiet sobs, “How could you!”</p><p>“We won’t be leaving her behind,” Tom cries, enveloping her in a shaky embrace, “We’ll take her with us. To a place where no one knows about Ladybug or Chat Noir or Hawk Moth.”</p><p>Her shoulders shake as she clings to Tom and her nod is a quiet thing that is born from the weariness of the prolonged torment of loss.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Tom has always been an artist and opening a bakery has always been his dream. There is no reason to abandon that – even when they are thousands of miles away from the place that had been their cherished home for more than a decade and some.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tom &amp; Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie relocates to the very edge of the Bowery.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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